Azrael Knight Errant 2 War of the Dragon
by WolvishOne
Summary: Updating again! Continuing the story
1. Roadhouse Blues

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

**_War of the Dragon_**

Chapter One – _"Roadhouse Blues"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

Hack's note: For anyone wondering what happened with my first installment of Azrael – Knight Errant, well, I sort of reached the end of my planned "back story" for the character. Sorry for the lame finish with him going off to explore Paris, but don't worry, that really was the end.

Really.

What? Don't believe me? Too bad. =Þ 

Seriously though, this story takes place several years after my initial story, soon after the incident I mentioned at the very beginning of Knight Errant - Jean Paul is returning to Paris to sightsee after finding himself declared dead by Gotham City's papers.

And that's all the setup you'll get. Read on, if you dare!

Oh yeah, and before I forget – I don't own any of the characters in this story. They're all property of DC Comics, and I'm just borrowing them 'cause I'm too much of a hack to create my own characters to fill out the stories in my head.

No, really!

Any way, let's get this show on the road…

*--*--*--*--*

It had been almost three years since Jean Paul last visited the original City of Lights. He barely remembered his first time there, as he had just escaped the clutches of the Order of St. Dumas, just started to deal with the horror that was his genesis in the African Desert, just realized that he had a second voice inside his head.

On cue, Azrael piped in. **Mortal, you do realize that most of your early ancestors were buried here?**

_If I'm going looking for graves,_ Jean Paul thought back at him smartly, _I'll look for Jim Morrison's first._

**Who?** Azrael wondered back at him. **I am not familiar with that name.**

_Sheesh! You'd think with as much time as you spend wandering around inside my skull, you'd at least explore the different kinds of music I've listened to! Jim Morrison, lead vocalist and soul of the Doors?_

**Oh, a rock and roll singer,** Azrael retorted, **How droll.**

Somehow Jean Paul made it through customs while still carrying on an argument in his head with Azrael. Unlike most times, though, this time he was winning. He didn't really have any desire to search out long dead assassins of the Order of St. Dumas – he was here in Paris as a tourist, not a "super hero," , not a member of the Order, and most certainly not as a historian!

The past few weeks had been a roller coaster ride for Jean Paul. First, he had a very bad run-in with Nightwing on the rooftops of Gotham. Then he had a rather uncomfortable "talk" with a few other members of Gotham's spandex set, in one of Bruce's auxiliary Batcaves. But, as fate would have it, he also met two members of the Justice League there – J'onn J'onz, the Martian Manhunter, and his new "sensai of all things female" – Oliver Queen, the original Green Arrow.

For some unknown reason (or at least unknown to Jean Paul), Green Arrow had chosen to take Jean Paul/Azrael under his wing and teach him a few things about composing himself while in the presence of attractive members of the opposite sex. For all his knowledge, Azrael had come to Earth when men mostly dominated the women of the world, and he had yet to adjust to this new equality of sexes. Jean Paul, on the other hand, was truly a stereotypical computer geek. Women were to be feared.

This didn't stop Oliver from trying to teach him, though. In fact, it probably amused the archer to find a man less apt with women than his own son Conner. At least Conner could speak while in the presence of a woman he found attractive, neither Jean Paul nor his alter ego seemed capable of it. 

Ollie being Ollie, he spent the rest of that night showing the whole group his collection of "Sex in the City" DVDs on the big screen in the cave, all the while sitting or standing right behind Jean Paul and pointing out various ways to handle certain "situations." In fact, as the impromptu gathering broke up, he took Jean Paul aside and invited him to spend the next day with him. The two did a bit of "male bonding," including being force-fed (or at least that's what Jean Paul is claiming) some of Ollie's "secret recipe" chili, all the while discussing various ways NOT to screw up around women.

Jean Paul walked away from the archer's tutelage with a newfound confidence, and promptly surprised everyone, including himself, by arresting a new female villain in Gotham, a French woman by the "name" of Nocturna. After turning her over to the police, he decided to celebrate by visiting the city of his ancestors, Paris. And here he was, walking out of Charles De Gaulle airport and hailing a cab.

{Where to, friend?} The cabbie asked him in French, which up to this point Jean Paul had not realized he even spoke.

**Ah, the wonders of the System,** Azrael chimed in humorously.

{The Amarante Elysees Star Hotel, please,} He managed to choke out, also in French, while trying not to laugh at Azrael's horrible joke.

_You don't make it easy to appear normal, you know!_ He thought as he watched the cabbie load his bags into the trunk of the taxi.

**If having an angel in your head was easy, mortal, everyone would have one.**

_Funny,_ he thought back, as he grabbed the special duffel bag containing his Azrael costume and hefted it into the back seat beside him.

{Sir, do you not wish me to put that bag in the trunk?} The cabbie asked.

**As if he could lift it..**

_Hush!_ Jean Paul thought before answering. "No, I will keep this one with me."

"As you wish, sir." The cabbie replied in broken English, before climbing into the car and pulling out onto the crowded streets of Paris.

_Ahh, tourism. Gotta love it._

**If you say so, mortal.** Azrael retorted, trying hard to get in the last word. **But I would still prefer to show you what I know of this glorious city, rather than trust a "tour group" to do so.**

_It's not like we have to return to Gotham any time soon,_ Jean Paul thought back. _There'll be plenty of time to gallivant around in costume, I wager._

*--*--*--*--*

_To Be Continued…in "Bright Lights, Big City...same old song"_

Another Hack's note: _(doesn't this guy ever shut up?)_ – Just setting ya'll up. This chapter borrows heavily from Chris Dee's Cattails 21 "What's New Pussycat," especially the "Fresh Meat" chapter. 

This chapter best read while listening to The Doors "Stoned Immaculate", especially the John Lee Hooker/Jim Morrison version of "Roadhouse Blues."


	2. Bright Lights, Big City Same Old Song

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

**_War of the Dragon_**

Chapter 2 – _"Bright Lights, Big City…Same old song"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

Quick Hack's note (from me? Really?) – the characters in this story belong to DC Comics. I am making no money from these stories, nor would I wish to. Unless, of course, DC wanted to hire me to write a new Azrael series...and while I'm dreaming I'd like a pony!

*--*--*--*--*

It had been two weeks since Jean Paul first checked into the Amarante Elysees Star hotel, and he had spent the entire time with an American tour group, going around the "offical" tourist traps of the city. In spite of the alarming amount of retired persons in his tour group, or perhaps because of their amusing stories and genial attitudes, he had been enjoying himself immensely.

Still, Azrael always lingered in the back of his mind, pointing out things about the city that the tour guide could not know, and quite frankly, would probably deny if he did. _Ahh, the wonders of having a "I've spent four-centuries on Earth" Angel for a tour guide._

Azrael hungered for action. He made this abundantly clear at every opportune moment. Jean Paul had yet to don the raiment of his alter ego since they arrived, and the inaction was wearing Azrael's patience to a thread. As Jean Paul returned to his hotel room for the evening, his alter ego again stepped up the pressure to patrol.

**Really, mortal, there is so much more to this city than what you have seen,** Azrael opened his usual evening argument.

_I've seen everything that any American tourist could ever want to see, Azrael._

**Including your precious "rock star's" grave, I know.** Azrael's mental voice was tinged with more irritation than normal. **I tire of this game, mortal. Let us not argue tonight, simply put on my armor, grab up my sword, and let us explore this city from the rooftops.**

_Okay,_ Jean Paul replied simply.

**You know that there is more to Paris than...wait, did you just agree with me?** Confusion replaced the irritation previously there. **Well mortal, did you?**

Jean Paul chuckled aloud as well as mentally as he withdrew his special duffel bag from the hotel closet. _Yes Az, I did in fact agree with you. The official tour ended today, anyway, and honestly I'd like to "stretch my legs" as well. Although I have noticed something strange about this continent – is it just me, or is there very, very little news about super-heroes?_

**It is not just you, mortal,** Azrael replied happily, as Jean Paul began pulling off his street clothes, and pulled on the black form-fitting jumpsuit he wore under the armor. **I wonder if there are no heroes on this continent, or if the people simply choose to ignore them, unlike the American media.**

They both flinched as they thought of the headline declaring their death to the world.

_I suppose there are ways to find out,_ Jean Paul replied as he began pulling on the golden and red armor of Azrael. _But I'd prefer to keep a low profile, if we can._

**Agreed,** was Azrael's only response as they slipped out of the room towards the stairwell. **Let us see this city as it was meant to be seen; in the many shadows cast by all the lights.**

*--*--*--*--*

Thirty minutes later, they were perched on one of the many domes of the Notre Dame cathedral. Azrael had been regaling Jean Paul with his first memories of seeing this grand church, and Jean Paul had been slowly fading off to sleep in their mind. Just as it seemed certain that Azrael would have to get them home on his own, a commotion erupted from a nearby alley.

_Every city has alleys,_ Jean Paul mused, _and they all seem to have crime, as well. Shall we go to work?_

Azrael broke into a true grin under his helmet. **What is this "we," mortal? Is there a mouse in your pocket?**

_No, but there is a pain in my..._

Before Jean Paul could finish his thought, Azrael lept into the darkness. They quickly covered the distance to the alley, and perched on the edge of a roof overlooking the melee below. Before them were five figures, four clad in what could only be described as gang colors, and one in a dark red outfit vaguely reminiscent of a feline.

_Better get the 411 on this before we go leaping in,_ Jean Paul thought, _we don't want to make any mistakes that might lead to an international incident.._

**Make the call,** Azrael thought in reply.

Taking control of their body, Jean Paul reached down and flipped open a compartment at the wrist of his left gauntlet. He toggled one switch, activating the miniature video camera imbedded in his helmet. Then he brought his communication gear active, and patched into the network used by all of Gotham's vigilantes. Thankfully it was functional almost anywhere in the world.

"Oracle, are you online?" He asked, somewhat sheepishly.

**How soon you forget the lessons of your "sensai," mortal,** Azrael laughed in his mind.

Before Jean Paul could think of a suitable retort, a familiar green head appeared on the inside of his visor. Even though he had designed the helmet himself, it still took some getting used to when Oracle popped up two inches in front of your eyes.

"I'd recognize those dulcet tones anywhere, bright-eyes. How's Paris, Jean Paul?"

"And hello to you, as well, Oracle." Jean Paul said somewhat amusedly. "Paris is fine, if a bit active tonight."

"Done playing tourist already?" The disembodied head asked, "Or did you just decide to take a midnight stroll?"

_Trust Oracle to figure it out immediately,_ he thought to himself. "The official tour is over, yes, and I needed a night out on the town, so to speak. I've come across a situation, but I don't know who the players are. Are you receiving my video signal?"

"All business and no play makes Azrael a very dull boy," Oracle wittily replied, "But yes, I am receiving your signal. It's slightly time-delayed thanks to the satellite link-up, but I can see what you saw a moment ago."

Do you have enough to positively ID anyone down there? It looks to be four on one, but I don't know if the red cat down there is the good guy, or the bad guy!"

"Oh my god," Barbara exclaimed with a laugh, "do NOT let her hear you call her that! That's not a cat-suit, Jean Paul, that would be a Fox. Crimson Fox, to be exact, a reserve member of the JLA, and former member of the JLE when it was in existance."

**Cat, Fox, what is the difference?** Azrael mused in Jean Paul's mind. **They are ALL sexual euphamisms...**

_Don't say things like that when I'm talking to Oracle! She'll demand an explanation if I giggle!_

"Hello? Angel boy? Are you listening?"

"Sorry Oracle, I was a bit side-tracked for a moment there." Jean Paul turned a slight shade of red under his helmet, as he waited for the obvious reply. Oracle was kind, however, and chose not to zing him with it. Instead, she merely continued giving him information, after a mostly hidden chuckle.

"She's definitely one of the good guys, JP. Go help the lady out, will you? I've got to go check on my...erm, one of my operatives."

Jean Paul smiled, realizing what she was about to say. "Tell Nightwing hello for me, and I've already mailed him a postcard from Paris. Well, technically I sent it to both of you, but you know what I mean.."

Barbara only laughed on the other end of the line, causing her virtual avatar to do the same. "Not still mad at him, are you?"

"Who, God's Gift to Vigilante Justice?" Jean Paul smirked underneath his mask, knowing full well Barbara had latched onto the phrase he had used to describe Nightwing a few weeks ago. He was sure if Nightwing was mad at him for anything, it was for giving Barbara a new nickname to irritate him with. "No, he was right, I was acting like an ass. I just hope he'll forgive me."

"I'm sure he will, Jean Paul." Oracle's tone then turned somewhat motherly, "Now go save the damsel in distress!"

"Will do," Jean Paul shot back, then turned off his communication equipment. He didn't immediately turn off the video camera, though, as he waited long enough to get a few more shots of the Crimson Fox in action.

**Thinking of all those hidden files you found on the Batcomputer, Mortal?**

_Shush,_ Jean Paul thought back at Azrael's gentle poke at both he and the Batman. _And go save the girl._

*--*--*--*--*

_To Be Continued…_

_Next time – "Hero of the Day"_

Hack's note – Still listening to The Doors. Try it, and see if it works for you, too!


	3. Hero of the Day

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

_**War of the Dragon**_

Chapter 3 – _"Hero of the Day"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

Another useless hack's note – As always, these characters do not belong to me, but to DC Comics. Just borrowing them, really. Enjoy the show, remember to tip the veal and try your waitress...

*--*--*--*--*

Moving with a speed unknown to most normal humans, Azrael leapt from his rooftop perch down into the alley below. He used one thug to break his fall, leaving him lying in the dirt of the alley, much the worse for wear. Turning to the crimson-clad woman he had landed next to, he attempted an Ollie-esque icebreaker.

**"Is this a private party, or can anyone drop in?"**

He thought it was witty. Really, he did. The woman in front of him, however, only grimaced at his attempt at a joke.

"Really, tall bright and golden, you are in Paris now, at least attempt to speak the language." She replied somewhat shortly, before throwing a roundhouse right into the face of the nearest gang member. "Are you just going to stand there gaping, or are you going to help?"

**{Your wish is my command, my lady.}** He replied in perfect French, before lashing out at the other two skels with a pair of punches of his own.

While the four had been giving the Crimson Fox a hard time by herself, they were no match for her with a partner of Azrael's militant efficiency. None of the combatants spoke a word as they fought, the gang members mostly because they weren't given time to, while Azrael and the Fox were simply concentrating on ending things as quickly as possible.

It took less than two minutes, by Azrael's innate sense of time, but it felt like forever. As the final thug fell, unconscious, the Fox finally broke the silence.

{Oh, mercy, I had meant to leave one awake for questioning! Oh, well, I suppose there will always be next time.} The Fox quipped as she stood over their fallen foes.

**{I apologize, my lady. Had I but known you required one coherent, I would have been certain to leave one that way.}**

The Fox circled slowly around Azrael, taking his full measure. As she passed behind him, she began to ask questions.

{While I am not ungrateful for the assistance, my knight in shining armor, to what do I owe the honor?}

**{I was simply in the neighborhood,}** Azrael replied truthfully.

{Hmm,} she continued as she came back around in front of him. {And who might you be, if I may be so bold?}

**{I am known as Azrael,}** he spoke, as he raised his hand in greeting, **{Recently of Gotham City, but originally from here in Paris.}**

A slight smile crept over the Vixen's features, as she thought about this last revelation. {Ah, so that explains your command of the language of love, if not the difference in your demeanor.}

**{Excuse me? I do not understand your meaning.}**

A true smile appeared now, as she drew a little closer to him. {Language aside, you are not speaking as you did when you 'dropped in' any more, cheri.}

Under the helmet Azrael's face began to burn as he had often felt it do when Jean Paul was embarrassed by a female. _Imagine, an embarrassed angel!_ Jean Paul shot from somewhere deep in his mind.

Trying to cover his flustered feelings, Azrael continued. **{I was recently given some advice by a friend on how to meet women in our line of work,}** he said, then he paused for a moment. **{Obviously the advice was not as good as I had thought it to be.}**

This brought the desired result, as the smile on her face widened even further. One of the men on the ground started to stir, however, grabbing both of their attention. The Fox languidly walked over to the man, raised one foot high in the air, then brought it crashing down on his skull.

_I swear she's showing off, Az!_

**Hush, mortal, while I turn the camera back on.**

_Pervert._

**Deviant.**

_Heh, like I'm really going to stop you._

As the two argued mentally, Azrael reached down and started to toggle the video controls. Before he could, though, she turned back to face him.

{I suppose having one of them to question isn't as necessary as I thought,} she said simply, {For I have found someone much more interesting to question now.}

Jean Paul simply "whoa'd" in his mind as he actually caught her implication for once.

**{What do you have in mind, my lady?}** Azrael asked, somewhat hesitantly.

{It would be improper of me if I did not thank you properly,} she stated as she began walking towards him. {What do you say to meeting me for dinner, say seven-ish tomorrow night?}

**{I would be delighted, but I feel I must ask; in costume or out?}**

The Fox laughed daintily at his question, and began to turn away. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she coyly replied in English, before withdrawing a slip of paper from one of her boots. She looked back over her shoulder, winked at him slyly, and dropped the paper to the ground beside her before leaping up into a fire escape.

{See you soon!} was the last thing Jean Paul or Azrael heard, as she scampered off into the night. Azrael covered the distance quickly, picking up what was actually a small business card.

_Vivian D'Arimous, Adventurer At Large,_ Jean Paul read mentally, as Azrael tucked the card into a pouch on his belt. _Looks like it might have her address on there, too!_

**Mortal, I cannot believe the impropriety of this woman,** Azrael replied with a hint of worry, **We know that she should be trustworthy, since we are aware of her history with the Justice League. But why should she trust us?**

_I don't know,_ Jean Paul mused, _perhaps we should have Oracle give us a bit more background on her._

**An excellent suggestion, mortal,** Azrael thought as he started to climb the fire escape himself, **And we will act upon this idea tomorrow. For now, however, I still need to show you your ancestral home!**

_Gah! Not more boring history!_

Azrael simply chuckled as he moved off into the night.

*--*--*--*--*

_To Be Continued…_

_Next time – "Can't Buy Me Love"_

Hack's note – I know, I know, I'm going from a Metallica inspired chapter name to a Beatles inspired chapter name. So my taste in music is eclectic! Didn't really have anything playing while I wrote this one, though. Just liked the name for a title... =D


	4. Can't Buy Me Love

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

_**War of the Dragon**_

Chapter 4 – _"Can't Buy Me Love"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

Hack's typical note: As always, these characters belong to DC Comics, and their respective creators. I'm just borrowing them, I'll put them back!

*--*--*--*--*

It had been an exceptionally long night in Paris for Jean Paul. Azrael had dragged him all over the city after their brief encounter with the Crimson Fox, pointing out various areas that were important to the Du Valley family. Jean Paul had found it all very tiresome, if informative. Still, upon waking this fine morning, only one thought had stayed with him.

_Why in the world would she just drop a card with her full name and an address on it?_

Retrieving the card in question from where Azrael had stowed it in his armor, Jean Paul sat down at the desk in his hotel room. He pulled his laptop over in front of him, hit the power button, and sat idly fiddling with the video camera perched on top of it while waiting for his customized Lexmark machine to boot up. Once it was finally ready, he double-clicked the "Connect to the Internet" icon on his desktop, which cleverly hid the link to Oracle's custom suite of programs.

Jean Paul got up to get a soda from the mini-fridge in his room as he waited for all the programs to start and connect with Oracle's equipment back in Gotham. Unfortunately for Jean Paul, he didn't quite realize how fast Oracle's equipment truly was, as he suddenly heard a wolf whistle emitting from his computer speakers, just as he bent over to pull the soda from the 'fridge.

"Wow, bright-eyes, you never told me you wore batman print boxer shorts!" Barbara quipped from across the 'net.

Suddenly aware that he was still in his sleeping attire, Jean Paul turned around to face the monitor, his face now a bright shade of crimson. Right in front of him was Barbara's smiling face in a video chat window.

"A bit of advice, stud," she continued ribbing him, "If things get hot and heavy between you and the mysterious Fox, you _might_ want to wear a different pair of underwear..."

Jean Paul quickly sat back down in front of the monitor, being careful to slide forward until all that was visible to the video camera was his head and shoulders.

"You weren't supposed to see that!" He admonished her.

"What, you think you boys are the only ones that keep pics around here?" Barbara smiled knowingly, having already checked the contents of Jean Paul's hard drive. "Or is 'Foxy 1' not what I think it is?"

Finally not being able to handle any more embarrasment, Jean Paul broke out laughing. "You just don't quit, do you?"

"Somebody has to pop all the testosterone-fuelled egos around here. Might as well be me!" Oracle continued to smile, as the red began to fade from Jean Paul's face. "Now, I know you didn't log in just to give me a peep show, so what can I do for you?"

Jean Paul grinned, knowing that Barbara only picked on the people she actually liked. "Well, I sort of have a strange question for you. After the battle last night, the Fox dropped a card for me with her real name and address on it, and I'm wondering why! Any ideas?"

Oracle's eyebrows rose as she processed this information. "She did what?"

Jean Paul held the card up in front of the video camera as proof.

"Well, that's the Fox for you," Barbara quipped, "But as for why? I couldn't really tell you."

"What, something the all-knowing Oracle doesn't know?" Jean Paul asked slyly. "I know you better than that, what aren't you telling me here?"

Oracle gave him a stern look, but answered anyway. "She's JLA, Jean Paul, and you aren't. Even if she did give you her name and address, as the JLA's official provider of data, I'm bound by oath not to reveal anything about them to an outsider."

Jean Paul's expression sank, as he had not considered this when coming to Oracle. "Is there any way I can find out background on her?"

"Well, you could fly back to Gotham and access the Batcomputer in the cave, if the boss let you.." 

Jean Paul shook his head negatively. "Won't work, I have a 'date' with her at seven here tonight. I don't think even a concorde would get me back and forth that quickly."

Oracle thought on the problem for a moment, leaning off-screen from her message window. Finally she reappeared, "There might be a way. If you could convince a member of the JLA to take you up to the Watchtower, you might be able to view files there as a guest, if J'onn permits you to. But Batman is rather busy at the moment, so I don't know how you'd manage to swing that."

Jean Paul only smiled, as another Leaguer came to mind. "Don't worry, Oracle, I think I can handle it. The problem is finding a transport tube here in Paris."

Oracle only smiled, then hit a button on her keyboard. Instantly another window opened on Jean Paul's desktop, with an address he had not seen before. "Try here, if and ONLY if you get someone to set you up a visitor's pass. Otherwise you might not survive the automated defenses."

"Thank you, Barbara. I owe you one."

"I'll add it to the rest you owe me, Bright-eyes." She smiled, then signed off with one last quip – "But remember, I have pictures of your bat-inspired sleepwear!"

Jean Paul could only sigh as he hunted up his cellular phone. He dialed a now-familiar number in Seattle, and was greeted with a slightly sleepy, and quite grumpy "This better be good.."

"Hey, sensai, it's Jean Paul. Sorry to wake you, but I've got another question about women for you. Well, actually, just one woman.."

"Heh, you're a chip off the old block! Ask away, grasshopper!"

*--*--*--*--*

It took Jean Paul some serious convincing to get the Green Arrow to agree to helping him get into the Watchtower, even if it was to research the Crimson Fox's past. "You're removing the mystery, son, and women prize their mysteries.."

Eventually he did talk Ollie into taking him up to the JLA's fortress on the moon. It took some doing, as Ollie is only a reserve member, but a quick phone call from Ollie to J'onn later, followed by another quick chat with Oracle, and he was set up as an official visitor. Donning his costume, he made his way across the rooftops of Paris to the address Oracle had supplied him. Surprisingly, it turned out to be just an ordinary business office building, and Jean Paul wasn't sure he was in the right place until he managed to make his way to the basement. There, hidden behind a false panel in a janitor's closet, was a control panel and a very solid-looking door.

Jean Paul took off his helmet, laid his hand upon the datapad while a retinal scanner checked his identity. He typed in his name and temporary password, and the door slid open to reveal a large tube. "**Watchtower,**" he spoke in Azrael's voice, then stepped into the tube.

The trip was nothing like he expected. He felt like his whole body had been torn to shreds and reassembled, and fell out of the tube face-first to the floor, gripping his stomach lest its contents chose to make a return trip.

"I'm told it's always that way the first couple times," croaked a familiar voice from beside him. "Just breathe normally, it'll pass quick enough. And don't feel bad, I threw up all over Arthur's boots the first time he dragged me up here."

Jean Paul opened his eyes to find Green Arrow bending over him. "Hello, Sensai. Sorry to drag you out of bed."

"And I'm NOT sorry I didn't warn you about the teleporters." Ollie grinned as he removed his domino mask. "Serves you right, for talking me into coming up here."

Jean Paul smiled weakly, then slowly pushed himself up off the floor and stood. He took a moment to get his bearings, as the room he had arrived in was quite large. Several transport tubes stood around him, and he marvelled at all the electronics in the room.

"Wow, this place is even more impressive than I thought it would be," he remarked to his newest mentor. "How did they get all of this up here?"

Ollie merely grumbled "I bet Big Blue was involved somehow," then turned towards a doorway leading out of the room. "Come on, if you think this is nice, wait until you see the view!"

The two walked down a few long corridors, Jean Paul marvelling at the equipment all the way. Eventually Ollie reached the door he wanted, which slid open at his approach. He led Azrael into a large rec room, dominated by a pool table in the center of the room, and a viewport that filled one wall.

Jean Paul could only stand there, open-mouthed, as he stared out the viewport. Before him was the landscape of the moon, boring, bland, but altogether fascinating to a young man who never expected to see it in person. Still, as intriguing as the moonscape was, it couldn't compare with the blue and white orb hanging seemingly a few feet above it.

"Oh, my god," Jean Paul exclaimed like a schoolboy, "Is that the Earth?"

Ollie only grinned at the younger man's antics, then put on a stern look. "What? Don't tell me you've never seen pictures of the Earth from space before, boy!"

Jean Paul grinned sheepishly. "You're right, I have. But I never thought I'd see it in person! This is.."

Ollie held up a hand to stop Jean Paul. "If you say 'this is so awesome,' I swear I'm going to drop you off with The Flash and Green Lantern." At Jean Paul's confused look, Ollie broke back into a winning smile. "I swear, you boys are peas in a pod."

Jean Paul could only stand there, caught between being amazed at the sights he was seeing, and his mentor's ribbing.

"Heh, lose the puppy-dog eyes, boyo, save 'em for the ladies." Ollie said with a smile, then indicated a workstation along one wall of the room. "Go ahead and look up what you need on that, while I rack up the pool table. Something tells me I need to teach you the fine art of pool while we're up here, too."

All Azrael could do was give Ollie another quizzical look as he moved over to the indicated workstation. Typing his name and password in again, he was pleasantly surprised when he gained access to the personnel files. "Not the greatest security in the world," he commented aloud.

A new voice from the door startled him. "Security in here may seem lax, Azrael," came the deep booming voice, "But I assure you, if J'onn hadn't authorized your password himself, you'd be just so much cinders right now."

As Jean Paul looked up, a man in a suit of gleaming armor with a Superman "S" on its chest moved into the room. The large man took off his helmet, revealing a friendly-smiling John Henry Irons, aka Steel.

"Nice to meet you, Azrael," He said simply as he extended is hand in greeting.

Taking his hand, Jean Paul smiled back up at the Watchtower's number one technician. "Nice to meet you, as well, Steel. Jean Paul Valley, at your service."

Steel looked the young vigilante over, an nodded in apparent approval. "John Henry Irons, at yours. If you're ever in DC and need a hand looking around, look me up. But for now, I just wanted to see who could talk the old man over there into coming up to the Tower."

"Hey!" Came Ollie's voice from the pool table, "I resemble that remark!"

John Henry laughed merrily, then started back towards the door. "If either of you need anything, I'll be down in my lab. Just give me a shout over the intercom."

"Thanks," Jean Paul replied, then turned back to the page he was reading.

_It says here that her strength, speed, and agility are all above normal for a human, and that she seems to have pheremone-based powers, as well._ Jean Paul thought as he read, _great, just what I need, another one.._

**Are you thinking of our disastrous run-in with Poison Ivy?** Azrael remarked, breaking the silence he had held all day. **It may explain why she was so casual with her identity. She may believe we are "under her spell."**

_Wouldn't be the first time,_ Jean Paul thought back at him, _But now that we're aware of it, it might not end so bad this time..._

**One would hope,** Azrael thought back before lapsing back into silence.

"Done yet?" Ollie said from behind him, causing Jean Paul to jump in his seat.

"I didn't think you could sneak up on me like that," Jean Paul stated uneasily, "I thought only Batman could do that.."

Ollie only gave him a stern look for the comment, then indicated the pool table. "I'll ignore the insult of comparing me to the Dork Knight if you'll join an 'old man' for a game or two before we subject ourselves to 'porting back out of here."

Jean Paul smiled as he closed the file he was reading and rose from his seat. "Sure, who knows, you might even teach me something."

Ollie "harrumphed" as they moved towards the pool table, then clapped the armored avenging angel on the back as he handed him a pool cue. "Fine then, you break."

*--*--*--*--*

_

To Be Continued…

_

Next time – _"Seeing Things For The First Time"_


	5. Seeing Things for the First Time

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

**_War of the Dragon_**

Chapter 5 – _"Seeing Things For The First Time"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

It had been a hectic day for the young hero, and the evening only promised to be more hectic. Ollie had delayed him for several hours playing pool, which was fine except for a small gaffe on Jean Paul's part in the last game, and then he spent the afternoon in the boutiques of Paris, searching for the "perfect outfit" as described by his mentor.

**A small gaffe?** Azrael's voice called out in his mind. **Is THAT what you are calling it now?**

_Shush,_ Jean Paul thought back, _it's going to be hard enough to get through the ribbing I'm bound to receive without you adding to it._

**You made a bet. With an Archer. On a pool game.**

_And I lost, all right? I admit it, after beating him twice in a row I thought it was a sure thing._ The exasperation in Jean Paul's mental voice grew with each passing thought. _How was I to know he was playing the shark? Did I expect him to go all "Color of Money" on me? No! He's one of the good guys!_

**Obviously not when it concerns bets, mortal.** Azrael shot back. **And what exactly is "Color of Money?"**

_Trust you not to get a movie reference,_ Jean Paul retorted, then went back to carefully placing the suit in a garment bag.

Ollie's instructions had been very specific. Jean Paul was to show up on The Crimson Fox's balcony at exactly 7:00, in his Azrael armor, with a garment bag over his shoulder holding a pressed and tailored suit. This way he would be prepared no matter what she had in mind for the evening. If it was a quiet dinner, he could excuse himself long enough to change clothes in her restroom. If it was a night out in costume, he could "conveniently" leave the garment bag there, giving him an excuse to visit another time. Ollie wasn't known for his battle plans, actually he was known more for shooting first and asking questions later, but when it came to the pursuit of the fairer sex, the Emerald Archer built in as many contingencies as Batman did when facing the Joker.

Jean Paul almost giggled at that last thought, again comparing Ollie and Batman.

**What was it he called Batman?** Azrael asked in his mind, **The Dork Knight?**

That did it for Jean Paul, and he busted out in a hearty guffaw. Which was just what he needed to calm the butterflies in his stomach.

_I'm SO not going to explain that one to you, and NEITHER OF US will ever repeat it._

**As you wish, Mortal.** Azrael chimed in lightly.

_Guess we'd better stop putting this off,_ Jean Paul thought simply, as he began to clothe himself in Azrael's armor. _Just do me a HUGE favor, and keep the snide mental remarks to a minimum while I'm talking to her, okay? I DON'T want to explain why I'm smirking in the middle of a serious conversation.._

**I shall be as unobtrusive as a church-mouse, Jean Paul.**

_I'll believe that when it happens,_ Jean Paul thought back, as he finished putting on the armor. _Now, let's find that address and see what happens._

**Do not forget your bet with the Archer,** Azrael ribbed.

_The video link has already been set up, damn it..._

*--*--*--*--*

_to be continued... eventually..._


	6. My Lovely Man

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

**_War of the Dragon_**

Chapter 6 – _"My Lovely Man"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

_Rain,_ Jean Paul thought, _Just perfect._

It was 6:59 p.m., Central European Summer Time, and Jean Paul Valley sat perched on a rooftop directly opposite the address on the Crimson Fox's card. He was in Azrael's uniform, but the angel in question was strangely absent from Jean Paul's mind.

_I didn't expect him to disappear like this,_ Jean Paul thought to himself, _It's sort of disconcerting after having a constant companion for this long. It's also kind of nice, come to think of it._

Somewhere deep in the recesses of his skull Jean Paul thought he heard a mental "harrumph," but he couldn't quite tell. Still, it was almost 7; time to bite the bullet and keep his appointment. In one motion he raised his arm and fired a grapnel line, then swung across the chasm between buildings to land on the balcony.

Landing, Jean Paul took quick stock of the situation. There was a glass door that led from the balcony into the apartment proper, and several very green plants sitting on the balcony itself. There were also long scratches in the granite of the balcony, scratches that looked suspiciously like what steel grapnel lines would leave if they were often draped across the balcony.

_Well, at least I now know for certain that she doesn't fly._ Jean Paul smiled under his mask. _That's a load off my mind._

He reached out and rapped upon the door's glass, lightly at first and then harder, until he saw movement on the other side. The door pulled into the room, and in its place stood a vision of loveliness framed in red hair and wearing a simple black dress with pearls.

"Well I do declare," she breathed in a very horrible French-affected Southern Belle imitation. "But it appears as though an Angel landed on my balcony."

She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes wash over him, then giggled and quickly turned away. "Right on time, as well. I do so love a man who is punctual." She stopped just inside the room, and turned to face him again. "Well, are you planning on spending the entire evening on my balcony, or would you like to join me inside?"

Jean Paul stood fully, not even realizing that he had still been perched on the rail of the balcony, and dropped down into the doorway. "But of course, ma'am," he attempted in his best John Wayne, "I'd love to join you inside."

She giggled again, then pointed at the garment bag slung over his shoulder. "I see you came prepared, my Angel."

Jean Paul smiled warmly. Then, realizing she couldn't see him smiling, he reached up to remove his helmet with one hand. "I didn't know if you would recognize me if I showed up at your front door in this," he motioned at the garment bag.

A smile crept across her face as his helmet came off. She was pleasantly surprised at the boyish good looks and long blonde locks that spilled out onto the collar of his uniform. "I would have known," she smiled quizzically, "But this way is more, how do you say? Intimate."

Face reddening, Jean Paul tried his best to continue to look her in the eye when his every impulse was to stare at the tips of his shoes. "Do you have somewhere I can change?"

She reached out and ran a black silk-gloved hand down his cheek, the blush rising even higher as she did so. "Yes, my cute little angel, right this way."

*--*--*--*--*

Somewhere in the seedier side of Paris, a beaten, bedraggled man stepped in front of a makeshift throne, taking to one knee.

"What news, Genet?" a deep voice boomed from the throne.

Genet looked up, his master's voice making him cringe. He knew he didn't have good news, and was afraid of his master's reaction.

"The man, my lord. The man in the golden armor," he finally managed to croak.

The dark man on the throne leaned forward, his face still hidden in shadow. "And what of this armored fool?"

"He is still here, with the Fox, my lord." Pierre shrank back a little further from the foot of the throne.

"That is not _pleasing_," the voice intoned. "What is it they are doing?"

"Unless our spies are mistaken, lord, it appears they're headed out for an evening at the opera."

In the darkness, the man smiled. "Let them enjoy their evening, then, Pierre. We shall worry them later."

Pierre breathed a sigh of relief as he began to rise, thinking himself dismissed. Just as he began to turn, a long white arm shot out of nowhere and grasped him about the throat.

"But _**do**_ keep me posted."

*--*--*--*--*

The night had been a whirl for Jean Paul. They had started the night at Carre des Feuillants on Rue De Castiglione, then traveled to the Garnier Opera House to watch La Bohème together. It was a whirl, and it was more than Jean Paul ever dreamed for a first evening together.

_Was this an actual date?_ he wondered, _Because now I'm really confused._

Their taxi pulled up in front of her building, and they stepped out into the night air. «Will you be joining me for a nightcap?» she asked in French.

«I would love to,» Jean Paul replied. _Especially since my armor is still in your apartment...But she knows that, right? I'm so confused._

The doorman wore a slight smile as he ushered them into the building. The young boy running the elevator smiled as well. _I get the feeling they're used to her bringing men up, so this isn't something super special for her._ He looked over at her in the elevator, and she smiled up at him very sweetly. _Oh, I'm so confused.._

The elevator opened at the top floor. «We're here, Miss D'aramis.»

Jean Paul tipped the young man as Vivian moved to unlock the door to her apartment. She turned and smiled at him coyly, holding the door open just slightly.

_Welcome to my lair, said the spider to the fly_ he thought, stepping through after her.

*--*--*--*--*

_to be continued..._

_Next Time: **Popcorn and Peanuts**_


	7. Popcorn and Peanuts

Azrael – Knight Errant 2

**_War of the Dragon_**

Chapter 7 – _"Popcorn and Peanuts"_

_Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada_

*--*--*--*--*

Somewhere in Gotham, a young lady snickered, and a golden-goateed archer moaned in exasperation. It had been four hours since Jean Paul had activated his helmet-cam, set it to record and broadcast, and began his "date" with the Crimson Fox. The first five minutes they had watched him change clothes (which Ollie turned away from, and Babs secretly recorded...married or not, it was only fair since the boys did it all the time), then nothing. The couple had left the apartment for a night on the town, leaving Barbara "babysitting" the Green Arrow, since they had agreed to watch together on the video link in the tower apartment she shared with her husband.

However, after they had devoured the last of the take-out they had ordered ("How about some world-famous Queen Family Recipe Chili?" "No way are you burning any of my pots Ollie." "It's good for you." "That is NOT what Dinah says." "It'll put hair on your chest!" "And that's an attraction how?" "Oh, good point. Chinese take-out it is, then." "Good boy, now get dialing."), after they had gone through several games of "name that numbskull," (Barbara won, of course), and they'd nearly run out of Speedy/Nightwing stories to share, the main monitor finally flared back to life.

They were mildly surprised that Jean Paul still had his act together, and in fact looked to be "hitting his stride" such as it were. Until the Crimson Fox added champagne to the mix. Then things got silly.

"No, no, NO boy! That's not what I told you to do." Ollie screamed at the screen as Jean Paul drank his third glass of the bubbly alcohol. "You and I both know you have no tolerance for that!"

Barbara merely continued to giggle, as she made a mental note to send several hangover remedies to Jean Paul via his email for in the morning.

On screen, the Fox continued to scoot a little closer to Jean Paul on the sofa as they talked and drank. Watching on the monitor, both Ollie and Babs were fairly certain Jean Paul was clueless of the Fox's movements. They also had the feeling that Jean Paul had long forgotten about his bet with the archer, and the fact that the helmet sitting there in the floor looking at him was recording his every word and move.

Finally it happened – what the twin voyeurs were hoping for – the Fox leaned over and kissed Jean Paul. Slowly. With Feeling. And Jean Paul reacted as only Jean Paul could – the mixture of nerves and champagne being too much for him, he suddenly pulled away, turned his head, and threw up all over the arm of the sofa.

"Did he just?" Ollie asked incredulously.

"Yeah, yeah he did." Barbara replied just before dissolving in peals of laughter.

Ollie cocked one eyebrow, then gave in to the impulse and joined his viewing companion in mirth. Once the giggle-fit finally calmed down, they turned to look at the screen, only to find it dark once again.

"What? What happened? Hey, back that up!"

"I'm trying," Barbara replied, "But I don't think it's broadcasting any more!"

"**Oh, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with the video source,**" growled a voice from behind them, "**but I unplugged your satellite receiver on the roof.**"

Both turned quickly, rather embarrassed, only to find Nightwing standing over them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You're not who I expected," Ollie chirped from his seat. "Damn boy, you've got 'the voice' down pat!"

"**I expect this sort of thing from you Queen,**" Dick growled, turning to look squarely at his wife, "But you? I know I don't much care for Az, but I thought he was your friend?"

Barbara merely shrugged, and pointed at Ollie. "It's his fault."

"Is not"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"**Children!**" Nightwing roared. "I don't really care whose fault it is, for all I know it was Jean Paul's fault, but we are NOT watching any more of this. Are we clear?"

A sly look was all he received from Babs, but Ollie managed to bark a "Yes sir" before coughing "asshole" under his breath.

All Dick could do was grimace.

*--*--*--*--*

Pierre Genet was not a happy man. His boss, his lord and master, had required that he find out who the armored American accompanying the Crimson Fox was. Happily, this took very little time; a quick Internet search led him to a few pages dedicated to a costumed crime-fighter called "Azrael," who matched the description exactly.

What disturbed Pierre was this – on one of the pages, supposedly this Azrael himself had replied in their message boards, claiming to be a former member of the Order of St. Dumas. Pierre knew his master's history well, and knew that the Order was one of the few 'rival' organizations that the Master thoroughly despised. And now he knew that he must take this information back to the master. He had to pray for the best.

But he knew this was going to be painful. 'Don't shoot the messenger' wasn't a valid proverb in this organization. The boss had been known to not just shoot the messenger, but tear them limb from limb...

*--*--*--*--*

It was all Vivien could do to keep Jean Paul from prostrating himself in apology every five minutes. She hadn't considered that his alcohol tolerance might be lower than hers, he was a man, after all, and his reaction to the champagne had taken her by surprise.

Still, she was a woman of means, and having the servants clean up Jean Paul's little gaffe was no problem. Convincing him otherwise? Well, that was a major problem.

"I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry," he began apologizing for the thirtieth time in as many minutes. "Please, allow me to make it up to you."

She sighed, shook her head, and patted his cheek. "I have told you, many many times now, that it is no problem. This is why the rich have servants, no? To clean up our messes?"

Jean Paul continued to babble something barely coherent. She could tell that even after being sick, he was still very inebriated.

"Perhaps you would like to go lie down?" she asked tentatively.

"I think that would be a very good idea," he replied. "Just give me one moment."

He reached over to collect his uniform, and noticed a small red light blinking on the side of his helmet.

_Oh my god, I forgot this thing was turned on!_ He thought as his stomach threatened to empty again, _I'm never going to live this down..._

Quickly he grabbed the helmet and toggled the 'off' button for the video feeds. _I can't believe I forgot. I bet Ollie's going to yell at me for weeks for screwing up this badly._

Trying to hold himself together, as well as hold onto his costume, he turned back to Vivien. "Lead on, lovely lady," he said with more confidence than he felt.

She merely grinned, took hold of his arm, and steered him towards a bedroom. "In the morning we shall talk, no? I have a proposition for you, if you are interested in joining an adventure?"

"We shall see," he breathed shakily, "we shall see."

*--*--*--*--*

_To Be Continued..._

_Next Time – **Disposable Heroes**_


End file.
